


Ranger's Responsibility

by DesertVixen



Category: Dungeons and Dragons (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Missing Scene, Realm Angst, almost Hank/Sheila
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 22:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13086360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/pseuds/DesertVixen
Summary: A little follow-up to Dragon's Graveyard





	Ranger's Responsibility

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragonbat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonbat/gifts).



He could not stay around the others, not tonight. The knowledge of what he had almost done weighed heavily on him. 

He had almost let anger make him do something he would regret. What was worse, Hank wasn’t even sure what had brought him back to his senses. Was it Eric’s soft reminder that he was the leader? Or the look in Sheila’s eyes as she turned away from him, that quietly sad disappointment?

Whatever it had been, Hank knew it had been right. He had used the arrows to free Venger instead of killing him. He wanted to go home – wanted to take the others home – so badly, but he couldn’t justify murder. Fighting in a battle was different, or fighting to defend himself, but deciding in cold blood to end someone’s life was not something he could do. As he had told Venger, he’d done it for them – for himself, for the others – not for Venger.

But until he felt a bit steadier, Hank felt it was best to stay away from the group, just a little. He made up his bedroll and settled in, with the crackle of the fire and muted voices from the others in the background. He wanted to sleep and forget it, wanted to wake and feel better.

*** ***

_Venger’s body hung suspended from his wrists, limp. Bleeding. Dying, Hank realized. Venger was dying. He had done it._

_Hank waited for the oh-so-familiar sight of the portal to the amusement park to open, to hear the music, even smell the tantalizing spells of junk food, as they had done so many times before. He waited to go home, for surely, they had done what they needed to do. Venger would terrorize the Realm no longer._

_Nothing happened. Even Dungeon Master was gone. Tiamat had flown away, leaving them alone in the eerie quiet of the Dragon’s Graveyard. They waited and waited, until night fell, but nothing happened._

_Until the flap of leathery wings made them all look up, and see death coming for them on dragon’s wings. He had thought Tiamat would be helpful, would appreciate them removing her enemy for her._

_But she had left them._

_These dragons cared not what they had done for Tiamat._

_Hank was the last one standing, forced to watch as his friends perished in fire or claws, as Uni became a snack for a dragon, as Sheila tried to protect Bobby with her life, as Eric and Diana fought with all they had, as Presto tried to conjure a miracle. He waited for his own death, wished for his own death now that there was nothing to live for._

_But they left him alone, alone in the Dragon’s Graveyard…all alone…_

Hank realized someone was shaking him, heard Sheila’s voice saying his name. At first, he couldn’t believe it, then he realized all of that had been a dream. 

He had made the right decision in the Dragon’s Graveyard. They were all right. He wasn’t alone, he told himself firmly. It was just a bad dream. Too bad they couldn’t all just wake up back in their own beds.

“Are you okay?” Sheila asked after a moment. “You were shouting in your sleep.”

He looked over, saw the others still asleep. “Just a bad dream.”

“It must have been some dream.” 

She was giving him a look that said she knew he was not telling the whole truth, and Hank sighed. “Let’s go for a walk.”

*** ***

They walked in companionable silence to a stream that they had found earlier in the day – part of the reason for choosing this spot to camp in. There was something very soothing about the way the water rippled in its course over rocks and sand, and Hank dropped down to stretch out on the grass. Sheila sat next to him, idly plucking at strange little yellow blossoms in the grass.

“What was the dream about?”

“Me making the wrong decision in the Dragon’s Graveyard, getting us all killed. Letting my anger make me do something stupid,” Hank said. He wasn’t going to give her all the details, how he had seen her bloody body collapsed over that of her brother, how he had seen all of them. He wished he could forget it himself.

“But you made the right decision,” Sheila pointed out.

“After making a few wrong ones,” he replied.

“But you made the right one in the end, and none of us were hurt. It worked out,” she said as she stretched out in the grass, her head next to his. “You don’t have to be perfect.”

He was silent for a long moment, as they lay there looking up at alien stars. Hank wondered if any of them were ones visible from Earth. They really had no idea where the Realm was, except that it wasn’t home.

“I don’t know what Dungeon Master wants from us,” Sheila said finally, “but I trust you to lead us wherever we need to go.”

Being the leader was nothing new to Hank – he had been doing it all his life. But now, being the leader meant having lives depending on him, too many factors that he couldn’t control, and Hank wasn’t so sure he liked it.

“Do you ever wonder how long we’ve been here, how long we’ve been gone?” Hank asked suddenly.

Sheila shook her head. “Keeping track is difficult. I’d guess a month or two, although it feels like longer.”

“Remember our adventure with Ramoud?” 

Sheila nodded, unsure of where he was going.

“When we saw Jimmy Whittaker, he said it was Sunday night, and how he was supposed to come to the amusement park with us. It just made me wonder, does anyone even know we’re missing?” It seemed crazy that they could be here and no one even knew they were gone. What if they never got home? What if something happened to them?

What if he got them all killed, he thought.

Sheila turned to look at him. “It’s not going to matter, because you are going to get us home,” she said firmly. 

They shared a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. Hank wondered what would happen if he leaned over slightly, just enough to kiss her. But somehow, it didn’t seem right, not after he had just finished spilling his guts about feeling like a failure. So he said nothing, did nothing.

“It’s peaceful right here,” he said quietly, when the silence was shifting from comfortable to awkward.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” Sheila suggested. “I’ll keep watch.”

He nodded, closed his eyes, letting the sound of the water lull him to sleep.

Sheila watched him sleep. She had been so sure he was going to kiss her this time. There would be another time, she told herself. 

She intended to make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it! I wanted to play with both parts of your prompt, and decided to work from the Dragon's Graveyard AND get in some almost shippiness!


End file.
